


Next Time

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Entourage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-01
Updated: 2008-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1625381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vince and E decide to try something new this time. Featuring Catholic!E by request from the wonderful Ellidyay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kest

 

 

Vince looked a Hell of a lot older than sixteen. Not like... _old_ old, but _older_. Vince had somehow skipped all the awkwardness of adolescence by going from Cute Kid straight to Hot Guy with no stops at Pimply-Faced Geek or Gangly Teenager along the way. Eric would have hated him for it if it hadn't been something he'd benefited from.

"Come on, E! Just this one time? I swear. One time and we'll have tried it and I'll know and it'll be something we never ever talk about again. I swear!"

Vince pleaded with his whole body, his big hands tugging on Eric's hands and shoulders, his long legs sliding between and alongside Eric's own, and his fucking ridiculous hair brushing against Eric's face in a teasing caress as Vince fucking _nuzzled_ him to get his way. They -those talent scout guys who kept buzzing around like vultures at a fresh kill- said it was all part of Vince's "natural talent for acting" but Eric knew it had more to do with nurture rather than nature. Growing up as one of six kids living in a two-bedroom in Queens wasn't easy even if a kid's father _wasn't_ a drunken, abusive asshole who deserved to get thrown onto the third rail of the subway right before the afternoon Express. 

"That's what you said the last time, Vince," Eric protested even as he let Vince tug him over to his desk chair. Technically it was only a desk chair in that it was sitting in front of his desk because the thing actually belonged to the dining room set, but Eric and his mom only needed two chairs at that table anyway, so fuck it, right?

"Did you not _like_ last time, E?" 

Vince asked the question against Eric's ear, biting his earlobe in the process. He'd liked it alright. Vince fucking knew he'd _liked_ it but that wasn't the point. The point was that Vince had _promised_ not to throw that shit in his face again and he'd _promised_ that last time would be **the last time** and they'd never _ever_ talk about it again after _last time_. Eric fought back images of his mom coming home early from work, of Father Thomas finding out from him in his confessional, of their friends finding out because they could take one look at him after _this time_ and just **know**.

"Vince. This isn't fucking right, man."

His laugh was triumphant but, then again, Vince wasn't exactly used to losing, was he?

"So you **did** like it, E?"

E knew when to give in, "Yeah. I fucking did, Vince. That doesn't mean anything though. You said it didn't mean anything _last_ time."

Vince traced the line of Eric's jaw with his tongue. Eric forgot what he was supposed to be mad about until Vince spoke again.

"I lied," he whispered and pushed Eric down into the chair.

Eric's knees gave way along with his good intentions. He wondered if God would forgive him for this, if He'd even blame him for it. No matter what his mom or the Church said, Eric had a hard time believing God would have made Vince and him so good at being _Vince and E_ if He'd meant for **this** to be wrong. It was hard to believe that they were going to get sent to Hell for something that felt so much like Heaven. 

"You better not make a habit of doing that with me or you're going to regret it," Eric snapped to cover the sound of his heart rate going up as Vince pulled his zipper down. Vince could be casual because he was cool; Eric had to make it up as he went along.

"Ooh. Promises, promises, E," Vince tutted at him with a girly tilt of his head, he could take full advantage of those seriously illegal curls when he wanted to, and -before Eric even had time to fully process what was happening- dropped his pants to the floor.

"What the fuck are you doing, Vince?" Eric asked Vince's cock. Heavy and dark with blood and hanging like a serious motherfucker between Vince's legs and Eric almost wanted to get out of the chair and run for the door but he wasn't a pussy and he _was_ Vince's best friend.

Vince held up a rubber packet and flashed his best grin, "It's what the fuck _you're_ about to be doing that you should be worried about, E."

Eric closed his eyes when Vince started rolling the condom down his dick. It was fucking tight and that was oddly gratifying when he was being put into direct comparison with Vince. He didn't pretend not to understand even though he and Vince had said _the first time_ that **this** was never going to happen because E _didn't_ want to have to confess **this** to Father Thomas and he didn't want to go to **Hell** for being too much of a pussy to go to confession. All ten-thousand-miles of Vince's legs slid around Eric's thighs to straddle him through the arms of the chair and he didn't once pretend that he didn't _like this_.

"This could change everything, you know that?" Eric tried.

Vince smacked him hard in the head and Eric's eyes popped open to look into the most serious fucking face he'd ever seen Vince wearing. He considered briefly the concept of divine knowledge and how sometimes the saints had known things that everyman had not known because God had not made them privy to them. Vince was so fucking cool it might as well have been divine; this was fucking Queens and, here, being cool _was_ a divine gift.

"You ever think there's nothing this _could_ change? We're **us** , E. You and me. This is where we **belong**."

Vince held his dick in its lubricated rubber wrapping and slowly lowered his ass down onto it. It wasn't anywhere near graceful and Eric wondered if this was how he was supposed to find out Vince was really human and not some saint with inner divinity. Squeezing into him was so fucking unbelievable, it felt like dying, and Eric decided he'd find a new religion if he got to worship this way every day. 

"You keep calling me that and it's going to give me a big head," Vince whispered, teasing again at his earlobe.

Eric realized he'd been chanting _God, God, God_ while Vince was settling his whole fucking body down the hard rubber-wrapped length of his dick and _they were fucking in one of his mother's dining room chairs_. He laughed loudly against Vince's chest, kissing the sparse hairs there.

"Yeah? I hear that's appealing in Hollywood though. Big heads. You'll have to tell me when you get there."

Vince bit his neck hard, "You'll find out yourself since you're coming with me."

"I am?"

"You are," Vince stated firmly.

Eric experimentally bounced Vince on his dick and decided it wasn't worth arguing about now. They could argue about **that** next time. 

 


End file.
